Chronicles of Narnia:The Immortal King
Prologue= The gale winds pushed clouds of snow around the peak of the mountain. Galogloth had long since cleaved off the top so he cold place his throne on an even surface. His once bright blue eyes were no longer glowing. Icicles and frost covered his armor, his sword bit beep into the earth. ''For moment, he saw the woman. As beautiful as the day he took her life. He felt the seething anger in him when he discovered that she didn't love him, despite the night they shared so long ago. He had a feeling she had born his son during his campaign against the dwarfs of the mountains, but he wasn't sure. He had been gone two years before he saw her again. That was when he professed his love to her.'' ''But he had changed since then. His face was scared, his blonde hair as white as the snow he loved. He had been practicing black magic under the supervision of the sorcerer.'' Galgoloth's glowing blue eyes suddenly shot open, "WHY DIDN'T YOU LOVE ME!?" He screamed over the tumult of the storm. For a moment all seemed to stop and he saw the beautiful woman... but as soon as she had come, had she faded back into Galgoloth's mind. His free hand clenched his throne, cracking the living rock. When he loosened his grip, a chunk of the throne came off. For the first time in a thousand years he rose from the ancient throne. The old icicles snapped off, and the frost melted. He thrust his hand forth and began a chant in an ancient language. "Oom mal'o loarh' nai Terre thock, Frosirus" He continued to chant until, out of the swirling snow came a frightful beast. The frost Wyrm [[Frosirus]]. "My child," He whispered into the ear of the beast, "Seek out the descendants of my love, and enemy... report your findings to me! Now go forth, and reap your harvest!" =Chapter One:The Horde= Blood covered the ground. The stench of death saturated the air, as the chaos of the battle ensnared Galgoloth. His blade was covered in sticky red liquid, and would stay that way for hours. Around him the tumult of the massive battle overtook him. Thousands of Minotaurs clashed with warriors that were the best in the land, yet the warriors were getting annihilated. The Minotaur horde outnumbered the warriors at ten to one, and the battle grew progressively worse. Hundreds were dying every hour, and those that were wounded were left to be trampled by the massive beasts. The minotaurs very presence was frightening but to see them in a blood fury was disconcerting to say the least. Despite their massive size, the beasts fought with hardened grace and determined focus. They too were trained from birth as warriors, the very equal of Galgoloth's comrades. But the horde had sheer numbers over the humans. They used everything they could to fight; Fists, horns, hooves, and every now and then they would toss a corpse. Their fighting style was not only graceful but incredibly efficient. The humans on the other hand were more brawlers than warriors. They went into a rampage and had no order or technique. This great contrast gave them a slight edge over the more orderly minotaurs, but it proved useless. The massive army of the minotaurs numbered in the 10,000's, and this was just half of their army. The rest were still at the main stronghold they established on the shore of the continent of [[Disfas]]. The Sanmasuian kingdom had thrown all it's troops at this battle and now they were getting slaughtered. The ground was red and soft, soaked with the blood of the dead and dying. The clamor of the battle was overwhelming ten thousand half beast half man beings uttered their usually battle cries. The 1000 human warriors were going to stand their ground though. They would die rather than see the continent fall into the hands of the beasts. ---- Galgoloth's white knuckle grip on his sword, he named Mannoth. It was his fathers blade and was forged out of [[starsteel]], or so he was told. The blade had a slight golden color but that proved nothing. The blade was beautifully engraved and had an extravagant hilt. How his father had this weapon, Galgoloth probably would never find out, but it didn't concern him for long because a pair of blood thirsty minotaurs were charging his way. They raised their mighty battleaxes to cut him to pieces, but Galgoloth fought unlike his comrades. Instead he utilized flexibility, order, and grace in his fighting style. He easily dodged the twin axes of the minotaurs and thrust his sword into one of their backs as he slipped behind them. It gave a surprised moan before falling in a heap to the soft ground. It took a second before the other minotaur realized what happened to his partner, but it was too late. A faint golden blade tore through it's stomach without hesitation. He drew his sword out of the still alive body and thrust it into it's heart. Galgoloth charge back into the melee. He swung left, dodged right, slid down and hacked at limbs. Despite the growing amount of casualties Galgoloth was inflicting it seemed the horde never ended. His fellow soldiers were getting rarer and rarer as the battle progressed. In an hour all hope of finding another living human dwindled as Galgoloth retreated back to the mountains, cutting down all in his path. He didn't know how many minotaurs he had slain since he began his retreat but he guessed it at least around 300 dead or wounded. The lovely engravings on his sword were saturated with blood. His arms weary and tired from the countless amounts of swings, hacks and slashes. His lungs burned as he grew tired from the physical abuse of slaying so many of the enemy. His eyes stung as sweat and blood of his own and others fell into his eyes. His legs sore and stiff from the running he was doing. Soon he was within a decent distance of the mountains. ''Just a little farther'' he thought, but as he did so it seemed a swarm of minotaurs thickened the path between him and relative safety. He was no more than a hundred yards away from the mountain path had he recieved his first wound. It was a nasty cut that ran the length of his chest. It wasn't fatally deep but it stung nonetheless. Galgoloth brushed of the pain, slew the minotaur, and continued on. At twenty yards, his pace was considerably slowed. The tide of minotaurian soldiers thrown against him seemed to thicken. And to make matters worse, the learned his fighting style, and begun to develop counters as they watched their brothers in arms die. At ten yards, it was beginning to get difficult to take on many minotaurs at once. He was constantly on the offensive, ''and'' defensive. They blocked and parried his attacks more, and more. His moves seemed to get more predictable, even when he tried to switch it up by replacing moves with others. He even made up new moves, this proved to be more effective though. At five yards, his strength was truly failing. His blows were getting continually weaker. He must have felled at least 700 minotaurs since he made his way. He was so close, he could taste the mountain air, smell the old snow, and see the beautiful grey and black streaked rock. Within minutes he was overwhelmed and was getting cuts all over his body. His blood seeped out of his wounds and into the thirsty ground. But, just when all seemed bleak and hopeless did a frightening volley of white shafted arrows come streaking out of the thin wood at the base of the mountain. Yard long shafts protruded from the minotaurs chest. They looked down on the shafts of white, as if bewildered that such a thing was ever thought of. They then fell, simultaneously, to the ground. A beautiful elven woman carrying a shiny black bow approached him and said with some difficulty in the common tongue, "I am Alaria Glorindil, we have come to fight the horde of the minotaurs." Galgoloth nodded his bloodied face and fell to the ground, unconscious. =Chapter Two: In the company of Elves